


Guilt

by MerenwenElendil



Series: Eloise [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Comfort, F/M, Friendship, Guilt, Help, I'm not sure what else to say, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 04:29:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15502320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MerenwenElendil/pseuds/MerenwenElendil
Summary: Eloise returns from the Fade after the assault on Adamant Fortress. The guilt of leaving behind a companion and the losses suffered weigh heavily on her. Only one person can convince her to help herself.





	Guilt

**Author's Note:**

> I'm very tired and looked this over once, I plan to do so again, just to catch anything I might have missed - so if there are any mistakes i apologize!  
> I hope you enjoy!

 

“I – I need to go.” She made her way past a great number of people, Inquisition soldiers and Wardens alike, absent-mindedly nodding to those who acknowledged her presence with a salute, or an awed, “Your Worship.”

She made her way back through the crumbling paths that had lead her to the courtyard where her and her party had reappeared not an hour ago. It seemed oddly quiet now, the ringing of steel against steel had ended hours ago, or so she was told.

In all honesty, Eloise felt as though her time in the fade had been much longer than a few hours. The weight of the knowledge that she had gained, the exhaustion from the fear that had coursed through her, the fight against the Nightmare, and the loss of Alistair, hung heavily in each of her limbs and in her soul.

She forced herself to keep moving forward. Guilt sat with its claws sinking deeper into her heart, with each step, until she reached the front entrance, where she had entered the fortress that very same morning.

Her eyes swept over the scene that lay before her.

There had been more tents set up, quite close to the fortress, Elosie noted that most of them seemed to be designated to healing.

What she before mistook as the wind blowing through the deteriorating fortress, was the cries from the wounded carrying on the dry desert air. She felt as though she had an ice spell cast upon her, preventing the burning sun from warming her limbs.

Without realizing she began making her way over to the closest healing tent, and immediately jumping in with the healers there.

To her, it seemed an indeterminate amount of time had passed as she moved from tent to tent, patient to patient, holding down, bandaging, applying ointments, doing absolutely whatever she could. Why the healers allowed her to help, in the obvious poor state she was in, is uncertain. She would move over to them, and they would pause, look at their inquisitor with her uncharacteristically empty eyes, and direct her to a task.

The sun moved through the sky, and eventually sunk, the moons and stars claiming their nighttime glory. Eloise was mostly certain that a handful of her companions had come to find her, and attemped to pull her away. She remembered Varric’s voice, at one point telling her that she should come and sit down for a moment. At another time she thought she remembered Bull threatening to pick her up and carry her to her tent to get some rest, and the head healer shushing him and sending him away. She also recalled Solas. His calm presence the only intrusion for a long while, as he stood off to the side, observing. Then making his way over and gently pulling her away so that he could heal her wounds, “You cannot help them, if you do not first help yourself, _da’len_.”

She felt warmer and a little lighter after he went away. Somewhere in the back of her head she connected her coldness to possible blood loss from her wounds. Most of them had been superficial, however and she continued to help wherever she could.

It was the early hours of the morning now. Dawn was just beginning to break, blue shadows cast over everything, and she realized how quiet it had become. Very few cries polluted the air now, cool breezes kissing her cheeks as she replaced the bandage around a man’s leg. A pair of large, and calloused hands fell over hers, gently taking them, thumbs rubbing over the backs of her hands.

She realized how they ached.

“Just stop. You’ve done enough already.” The voice was familiar. Gentle, warm, understanding.

For the first time since walking out of the fortress, Eloise looked up, and focused.

Her eyes met golden warmth.

“Eloise…?” He paused gazing back at her, concern etched into every aspect of his face.

“Yes, Commander?” Her voice cracked, and she cleared it, wincing. She hadn’t spoken for hours.

“You’ve made your way through every healing tent we’ve set up. There is very little left to do. It is time you rested.”

She pulled her hands from his, shaking her head furiously.

“No I… I can’t. I have to help!” She took a few steps back, “I must help.”

He held her gaze calmly.

“You’ve helped. More than you can possibly know, Eloise. The only person left for you to help, is yourself.”

She realized with slight panic that every part of her body had begun to fight against her. She found it very difficult suddenly to move her feet.

“Will you help me, help you?” He asked quietly.

She let out a long sigh, before nodding her defeat. A relieved and grateful expression bloomed across his handsome face. He made his way over to her, and offered her his left arm, she took it and leaned against him heavily. He lead her slowly out into the early morning air, and back to her tent.

He helped her in and sat her on her bedroll. Then he meticulously began removing her boots, then gloves. He paused then, hands at the straps that held her leather armor closed looking at her. For a moment she felt the need to protest, to insist that she could do it herself, but ultimately gave in. She was much too tired to argue. It took most of her strength to nod, consenting to his nonverbal question. He continued his work, just as focused as before, not meeting her eyes. He rid her of her jacket so that she was left in her tunic. He moved away from her then, to some other corner of her tent, but returned shortly after, a bowl in hand. She could see water, a cup, and a bar of soap within.

She blinked at it confused.

He put down the bowl on the small table that had been placed beside her bedroll. Eloise noted that someone had removed the maps that had once covered the surface. He gently helped her up and took her by the shoulders sitting her down at the stool beside the table. She wobbled momentarily on the uneven sand. Then she felt his hand hover just above her, pausing for a moment, before starting to gently try to untangle her hair. He succeeded for the most part. She could feel how much heavier than normal her hair felt, large snarls and clumps weighted down with ichor and dust and demon blood.

He set about the arduous task of trying to clean out her hair. She couldn’t verbalise it, but she was immensely grateful of the gesture. She could tell that he was struggling.

“D’nt need tuhget it all...” she slurred out finally, knowing that it would be nearly impossible to clean it this way. She was certain he had managed to get most of it out.

She felt his hands pause, before replacing the cup back into the bowl. Suddenly he was gently patting her hair with a towel.

“S’magical.” She slurred out. Her filter was no longer intact.

He chuckle quietly behind her, “Well I don’t know about that, but I’m glad to help.”

The towel disappeared, and his hands were in her hair again, this time it took Eloise a few moments before understanding what he was doing.

“Th’fierce Commander knows how’t braid!” She crowed joyfully.

Cullen laughed in earnest, relief bubbling up into his chest at the first proper sign of Eloise being… well… _Eloise_.

“I do have sisters, as you know.”

He finished the braid, quickly, and tied it off. He pulled out a clean tunic and a soft pair of trousers from her saddle bags she had sitting at the foot of her bedroll. He placed them gently in her hands.

“Change and get some sleep.”

He turned to go, but fear crept up on her again. She moved surprisingly fast, grabbing his hand.

“Please don’t leave.”

There was an edge to her voice that he recognized. He took a deep breath and turned to face her again.

“Get changed, I’ll wait outside. Once you’re done, call to me, and I will come back and sit with you until you fall asleep.”

She wanted to be greedy and ask for him to stay with her while she slept as well, but she knew it was likely that he had had as much sleep as her, and that there was still much for him to do. She was being selfish enough asking this much.

“You promise?” She asked quietly.

His hand slipped into hers and gave a gentle squeeze.

“I promise.”

With that, she pulled her hand from his regretfully, and he left the tent.

Changing took longer than she thought it would, and she winced at the amount of blood and ichor that covered her. She tried to wash it off with the remaining water, and managed a decent job. Drying off she struggled to get into the clean clothes. She sat down on to her bed and called out for him.

He re-entered cautiously, looking about shyly. He rubbed the back of his neck as he came to stand fully in the entrance of her tent.

“Where… where would you like me?”

“Lay with me?”

She saw his eyes widen in the dim light.

“Beside me. Lay beside me.” She corrected herself quickly.

He cleared his throat nervously, seemingly weighing something silently.

“You don’t have to, forget I asked, you can sit on the chair if you like.”

He blinked a few times, before decisively stepping over to her bedroll, “You’ll have to move over then.”

She blinked up owlishly at him, and then scooted over, making room for him.

He laid down carefully.

At first, she lay stiffly, but then she wiggled a few times, and curled into Cullen’s side. His breath caught in his chest, and he was so preoccupied by the feeling of having her so close that he almost missed what she said.

“It’s my fault. I had to make a choice. Someone had to stay.” There was a quiet sniffle, and he realized she was crying. “Alistair died and its my fault.”

Cullen knew at this moment, arguing with her on the merit of that statement would do no good, so he filed it away later to talk on the matter further and just _why_ Alistair’s sacrifice was not her fault.

Instead, he moved to his side, and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to his chest.

She cried for a long while, and he let her. She finally fell asleep as the sun rose over the camp. He shifted so that the sunlight creeping through the tent, would not wake her.

“You are not to be blamed, Eloise Trevelyan. None of this is your fault.”

He whispered the words into her hair, hoping that perhaps they would reach her in her sleep and maybe, just maybe, they could help to alleviate part of the guilt she carried.


End file.
